New Day's Dawn
by Darth Furby
Summary: A Voldemort songfic. Basically, just an introspective little piece I wrote because I was bored and the song was perfect for this sort of fic. I put Harry as the second character because Voldy ponders him several times thoughtout the story.


A/N: I decided to write a songfic. ^_^ I have no idea why, of course. And it's a voldy fic at that. ^^; The song I used is called "New Day's Dawn". The artist is Hyde, and if you have never heard of him...uhm, well, sucks for you, because he is a GOD I mean, he must be, he wrote this song, completely in English, even though he's Japanese (like, from Japan, like Japanese is his first language...not many people over there can say they can write whole songs in English)...how is that not God-like? o_o Hehe. Well, you may not think so. But I do. ô_ô Er, well, I think the fic can be enjoyed without being familiar with the artist who wrote the song. So, uhm, yeah, eat your heart out. o_O;

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the franchise connected with it. I also do not own Hyde, as much as I wish I did. And Hyde owns the song (duh), so obviously I don't own it either. =P

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[_Do you really know the truth?  
It only has one face  
Even if you die - you've no clue  
That man standing by your side  
Perhaps he knows the truth  
But it may not exist at all_]

Truth, he thought, a disdainful hissing sound escaping his lips, is something that only fools chase after. After all, it seemed no one had yet to find it. Of course, whether or not someone had discovered what the truth of life really was depended on your definition of "truth". To him, truth was useless when it came to gaining power. Truth was something fools sought after, and died for. Fools, he thought, are those who think they have a God-given right to stand against me. There was only one person who truly had that God-given right, but he hadn't been seeking the truth when he had been given that right. That, he knew, was why he saw the boy as a worthy opponent. Even though he stood with men who believed that by standing against Voldemort they were above him, even if they died. Self-fulfilling "truth", he mused, is so very...quaint. But, he reasoned, they may die only to find that they were wrong. Which was the very reason he chose to seek power before he sought the "truth".

[_Why pray to the light  
When darkness conceives it_]

After all, if he were not trying to change their way of life, they wouldn't have this "truth", this justice to fight for. That notion brought a smile to his lips, though crooked it was. It was a good feeling, knowing he was in control, as much as those against might believe otherwise. If I weren't here, he mused, where would the line be drawn between "good" and "evil"?

[_You're surrounded by deceit  
It has so many sides  
Yet you turn your back on that fact  
Rooted deep in history  
A clever web of lies  
No one gets away - no one tries_]

So, child, he pondered, where would your loyalties lie if you weren't tied to that prophecy? Would it lie anywhere at all, after being betrayed by so many on both sides of this lovely line our kind has drawn to separate itself with? I've been here, since the beginning, watching the deceit as it penetrated your life, weaving itself yet deeper still. And it must hurt, now, knowing that so much of it was caused by none other than yourself, your purpose. They would die for you; whether you would do the same for them remains unseen. They can't escape their roles any more than you can; the difference lies in their choosing to become trapped.

[_Why pray to the light  
When darkness conceives it_]

They chose to fight me, to believe they can change what I've begun. They believed that for the boy to have to have the potential to defeat him was victory in itself. He smirked, contemplating what they would believe was good and true if he were not there to define what was proper.  They would continue to define themselves by the importance of their bloodlines, he supposed. They still did, but lines between pure blood and the open-minded, his allies and his enemies, had become blurred together, ever shifting, becoming more and more the same line. 

[_New days dawn - let's start the game  
Worship the winner  
So come on - let's start the game  
Your turn awaits you_]

As those lines merged, so did ideals. A new age was upon them, no matter which side would be the victor in the battles to come. Simple violence, he scoffed, is for my servants. No, he wasn't going to dirty his hands with the masses. He only sought to fight two men; one who came to him, and another for whom he was waiting. He feared Albus Dumbledore; not for his immense power, but for his mercy, his sympathy. He did not fear Harry Potter, perhaps because Harry Potter did not fear him. I feel anticipation, he thought, of the battle I must fight with the boy, not fear. He wondered how much longer he would have to wait before they found themselves dueling one another again; dueling, this time, for keeps. It is up to him, he decided, to determine when our final battle will be.

[_Say, what's your choice  
The die is cast  
No going back now  
What's your choice  
The die is cast  
Fake a "God bless you"_]

Voldemort grimaced in derision at knowing he would never be in full control of that particular matter. He could not predict just how the boy might choose to deal with his fate. All things considered, he wasn't entirely certain what he would do in the boy's shoes. Besides being more timely, he thought, smiling crookedly. For now it was enough to know the boy at least knew what must happen. The boy must be aware that he could go nowhere but ahead, as much as he seemed to favor living in the past; this he knew only from watching the boy himself, learning a great deal in the process. He had been surprised to learn that the boy only continued to fight against him because he was bound by the prophecy between them to do so. He lives only to fight now, as Voldemort understood it; it was unclear, however, what the boy might do afterwards, should he win.

[_New days dawn - let's start the game  
Worship the winner  
So come on - let's start the game  
Your turn awaits you_]

If he wins, it will be just as uneasy an age for his allies as it would be if I were to win, he concluded. It will be an troubled age ruled by a troubled man no matter who wins; one wherein the winner will be put up on a pillar for all to see. Whether the winner wants that, and whether the people care to see it, it will happen. To be so revered, he thought, is not natural. But he recognized that it is something that comes with power, something to be used as efficiently as was possible. The boy had yet to know this; Voldemort was certain the boy was doing his best not to understand it. Well then, boy, he decided, an amused smile crossing his lips, let us play this out. I'm waiting for you, and I will gladly take the troubles of being so very venerated off your weary shoulders. So make your move, Voldemort thought darkly, and make it quick.


End file.
